


Divided By Night

by giraffles



Series: Torus [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, I love these space elves, Introspection, NOT S5 OR S6+ COMPLIANT, Other, Platonic Relationships, Violence, allura thinks on their weird kinship, lotor doesn't know how to (genuinely) people, platonic lotura, they have an adventure, though it uses stuff from s5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 18:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15691053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffles/pseuds/giraffles
Summary: Lotor smiles at her weakly. "You earned that power by your own right. I was judged and found wanting."She can plainly see how much it's affecting him, because she knows how much he wanted it too.Or, two aliens deal with how the universe and life has treated them thus far.





	Divided By Night

**Author's Note:**

> this verse diverges from s5 in Real Big Ways, but as long as you're cool with that and some platonic lotura, then read on and enjoy c:

Lotor smiles at her weakly. "You earned that power by your own right. I was judged and found wanting."

She can plainly see how much it's affecting him, because she knows how much he wanted it too. He'd been looking for this place, this birthright, for centuries while she slept unawares on a distant planet. And then, it had slipped through his fingers in the same moment she laid claim to it. Allura was torn. She was still giddy from the experience, her blood still singing with the words of her ancestors, and yet the elation was tempered now. Coming out of the ancient palace she had found Lotor, offering her congratulations while trying to hide the way the weight of failure pulled at his shoulders. She understood that sting acutely; it had cut her deep when the black lion had refused her as a pilot.

      "I'm sorry," She says again, "I know how much you wanted this."

Allura wishes she could give him something more than sentiments that feel so hollow when she speaks them. What can she possibly offer to counter that crushing blow?

      "It's alright, truly," Lotor insists, though she knows it's not as sincere as either of them would like, "I can't undo what's been done. I made the mistake. But _you_  have inherited the power, and that's what matters."

It still isn't fair, she thinks. But he's right. They can't change the past, no matter how much they may want to. No matter how much that past aches and bleeds in their hearts.

      "What happened?" She asks, and he shrugs. Lotor sweeps to his feet and paces over to one of the displays, where a real time image of the current starscape is displayed. Points of light shine despite the void they inhabit, and there are even the far-off tendrils of galaxies to be seen. He keeps his back to her.

      "I panicked. I wasn't thinking, I just reacted. No, I..." He starts, then pauses, "...I wasn't thinking like an Altean. I was thinking like a Galra. And that's why I failed the trial."

His voice is soft and even, though he still won't look at her. However Allura doesn't get the impression that he's angry with her, though she's sure there's a bit of jealousy there that she can't blame him for. If anything, the one he's upset with is himself. It's a lonely place to be, when you think you've found where you belong, only to have the proverbial rug torn out from under you. It strikes her that not that long ago, any comparisons between the two of them would have turned her stomach, and now she can't help but make them. Things are changing and they're changing fast. Soon, the universe won't even be recognizable. She has to believe that'll be for the better.

     "You can't change who you are," Allura begins, "And I don't think you should."

He does turn to her at that, with one brow quirked, and he can understand why some of the paladins have become so smitten with him. There's something sharp in his glance, the way he carries himself with regality and charisma, a magnetism that's brought him so far. And there's something a little softer about him-- a side he'd shown back when they found the keystone, believed in her when she couldn't believe in herself. Of course, the motives were partially selfish. Then again, weren't many of their motivations selfish? She wants peace not just for the universe, but for herself, too. Someday she'd like to be able to _rest_  without worrying that it'll all fall apart when she isn't looking.

"Don't you start in on the encouraging speeches too," he teases, "Or I'll find myself drowned in a tide of positivity."

Allura giggles at the notion, though it doesn't steal the levity from her words. "I just meant that other ways of thinking aren't always bad."

      "Galra-controlled worlds may disagree with that."

The statement makes her wince. Lotor isn't wrong. He knows better than most.

      "You have a point," she concedes, "But it was also the Altean way of doing things that brought, well, everything upon us. My father made the decision to send the lions away. I still don't know if that was the right choice.”

She fiddles with the edge of one of her gloves. She chose mourning colors for her armor, the pale shade of grief from her world. For all those they had lost before. For all those they would lose going forward. Every decision in war is a balancing act, a nerve wracking gamble that she had to bear the consequences of. Often she wonders if she really has what it takes.

      "It's too late to regret it," he says, "There's no point in dwelling on it. All we can do is continue on."

Allura sighes. "I suppose you're right."

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, _mastering_  Altean alchemy was far more difficult than obtaining the knowledge of how to use it.

      "Quiznak," she huffed when the reaction snapped back and seared her hand, "This is ridiculous."

Pidge had suggested that she start out small-- good advice, considering the hundreds of thousands of years of information now wrapped up in her being. Alchemy had also been something her father had practiced for years before he created the lions, and now she was trying to do the same within just a few weeks of fiddling with the power. Yet they didn't have the luxury of time, not with the Galra empire still in shambles and the warring factions all vying for control. Haggar and her puppets were still out there and still posed a very real threat, even with Voltron on their side. They needed _something_  to give them a sure winning edge. Lotor had been convinced that the secret lay in the alchemy.

It wasn't that she didn't agree. But it was hard to have confidence when faced with overwhelming failure. She couldn't even coax a simple drone to life, much less augment the abilities of the lions. Or even, she had once dared to hope, more living ships to defend their coalition with.

But was that the *right* path to follow? Hadn't the creation of Voltron, in at least some small way, contributed to the millennia of darkness that eclipsed the universe? Or maybe it would have happened anyway. The Galra had always had a taste for battle, their culture based on strength and cunning before all else. Not to say they had been uncivilized-- far from it. No disorganized group of ruffians out for blood could have swept across star systems with such ferocity. They were a proud people, equal parts loyal and stubborn, and stayed true to themselves even when faced with impossible odds. Alfor had seen all the good in them once. Her father had been an excellent judge of character, and perhaps, Zarkon really had been a decent man once upon a time. Before the quintessence had taken away his reason. Though it didn't much matter now.

Allura tries again, forcing the energy that lay within her to the surface. Her own life force could do so much, power the ship, return a dying balmera to glory-- and yet she can't get a simple toy to move on its own.

      "What am I missing?" She mused aloud, "What am I doing wrong?"

In moments like these, she intensely missed her father's guidance. He would have been able to give her the benefit of experience, helped her to see from every angle, to find the places she'd overlooked. He was always such a comfort, such a constant in her life, and now he was gone. And yet she knew just how lucky she had been to grow up in such a nurturing environment. She hadn't asked Lotor more about what his life was like before he came to them, though a morbidly curious part of her wanted to. What little he had shared with her had been depressing enough, putting her own experiences into a cold perspective, and it should be his decision to share more if he wanted to. She wasn't about to worry over him, when he would likely find it invasive, and besides, he had others to confide in if necessary. People who were a great deal closer to him now than she was.

Still, she couldn't help the doubt that clouded her mind. If Lotor had also been granted the secrets of Altean alchemy, then they could be doing this together. He probably would have already been able to figure things out. He might be jealous of her upbringing-- but she was jealous of his practical experience. Hundreds upon thousands of years to live and learn and hone his skills down to a fine science. It was little wonder that he had run circles around them in their first skirmishes. Lotor had _played_  with them, effortlessly outsmarted them, and she couldn't even be mad now, when that same experience was now keeping them ahead of the competition. Though, it did chill her blood to think about how things could have been different if he hadn't decided to join them. Another close call.

Allura sighs and drapes herself over the work table. She wasn't getting anywhere like this. There had to be answers somewhere, and she wasn't going to find them burning herself out on the same thing over and over again.

 

* * *

 

      "I'm not so sure about this, princess," Shiro warns, "We hardly know anything about them."

      "That's true," she agrees, "But we don't have any other leads at the moment. And they've graciously offered to host us."

Allura can feel all of their trepidation. It sounds almost too good to be true-- lost sages, fluent in ancient arts of various races, claiming to be able to teach her the intricacies of Altean alchemy. The only ones who should know anything about the art should be long dead. And yet, they can't pass up the opportunity to investigate.

      "I don't know, it feels very trap-y to me," Hunk commented, "I don't like it."

      "Neither do I!" Coran broke in, "Princess, please reconsider--"

      "Coran, this could be our only chance for me to learn how to use this power," she reasoned back, hiding the unease that plagued her own thoughts, "I can't let it slip by us."

      "You're not going down there alone."

      "I can take care of myself--"

      "He's right," Lotor spoke up over the din, "You should not go alone."

Allura placed her hands on her hips and frowned at the lot of them. "The conditions were clear, only Alteans would be allowed to meet with the sages. And unless one of you has something you've been neglecting to tell us, none of you fit the criteria!"

Shiro stared her down. He'd become so harsh lately, colder than he was back when they had first stumbled on one another, and she feared that the conflict was taking a toll on him. It felt as though they disagreed more, clashing over decisions as things became more hostile. She knew however that it was coming from an earnest place, that all he had ever wanted to do is protect his team and to carry the burden her family had inadvertently placed upon him. Allura couldn't help the fact that they were both stubborn and rather terrible at backing down.

      "Well, I mean," Pidge starts, " _Technically_ , doesn't Lotor count? You could take him with you."

She wasn't entirely wrong. Being only half Altean was enough for the guardian of the white hole, so shouldn't it be enough for these so-called sages? But his other half was Galra, something that not everyone would be eager to look past. They might be more offended by a hybrid at her side that a human.

      "I'm certainly willing," Lotor nodded, "At the very least, I think we would all be more at ease if I accompanied you."

What Allura wants to say is that she can take care of herself, thank you very much, but she holds her tongue. They _care_ , which is why they're all so concerned about her well being. These are the people who dove deep into the heart of enemy territory just to rescue her. (A ridiculously reckless move, but one she's grateful for, on top of being immensely proud of them.) These are the outsiders, aliens from a far off world who have been thrust into the overwhelming position as paladins, and they've all risen to the challenge. They've stayed by her side because of their compassion and their determination, so how can she fault them for leaning into their strengths?

      "Fine," Allura agrees, "Lotor will come with me. Is that acceptable?"

Shiro's eyes are hard, but he nods. Everyone else murmurs approval, yet it's his gaze that unnerves her. It instills an edge of doubt that has no business haunting her. She pushes it to the side. She can deal with him later, once they're past this whole thing.

 

* * *

 

It's a trap.

Of course it is. And they had walked into it with eyes wide open like the fools they were. The lush planet had been real enough, as were the aged ruins still standing upon it, but those were the only benign components of the scheme. Allura stumbles behind a crumbling pillar with Lotor close behind.

      "It seems," he starts, "That we are not as welcome as they said."

She hates this. She hates being wrong, being wrong _again_ , as though she's incapable of learning or even judging a situation. The magnetic sphere of the planet dampens communications, and the dilapidated temple must house some sort of jammer. She would scream in frustration if that wouldn't alert the enemy to their hiding spot. Right now the laser shots are sporadic, covering enough of an area to tell her that they don't know exactly where the two of them are, but it's only a matter of time before one finds its mark.

      "We can't stay here," and Allura feels like an idiot for stating something so obvious, "We can't."

      "Perhaps it was me," he says lowly, "I'm not the most, ah, friendly looking figure."

The line of logic is reasonably sound. It hadn't even occurred to her that maybe they should have gotten him a different outfit, something other than the black armor in harsh Galra design. Then he might have been able to pass for a shifted Altean. But no, that was just wishful thinking-- Allura could almost feel the malicious intent rolling in their direction. The 'sages' never had any intention of doing anything but killing her.

      "You should try reasoning with them without me," he continues, "They may have gotten the wrong impression--"

Impulsively, she latches onto the collar of his armor and drags him down to eye level. He's startles and looks more than a little confused, but they don't have the luxury of a lengthy explanation.

      "Lotor."

      "Yes?"

      "You're thinking like an Altean," Allura can't believe she's about to say this, "I need you to stop."

He blinks at her. Galra have such strange eyes, yellow sclera and reflective domes, perfect for low light conditions. Eons of evolution that resulted in a species of apex predators. The laser fire gets closer.

      "Right now, I need you to think like a _Galra_."

Nothing she's ever said before has visibly taken him aback like this. She knows he walks the razor's edge between two worlds, struggles with centuries upon centuries worth of survival tactics and raised in the flames of countless wars. She can't even begin to understand what that does to a person. But she does know it's their best shot of getting out alive.

      "You can't be serious."

      "By the ancients," he's so difficult at all the worst times, "Just-- just do whatever it is you do!"

Lotor pauses. His face is dangerously blank, and time stutters as the silence between them grows.

      "Alright." He crouches low and pulls the black bayard seemingly from nowhere. Allura would question where he got it if she didn't already know damn well who gave it to him. It's not as though it matters in the end, because Shiro has gotten used to fighting without it and Lotor already can summon it into more forms than the rest of them. It still grates on her.

      "I'm sure you've noticed we're outnumbered," he continues lowly, "We need to take them by surprise. Go left, distract them, but don't get too close."

The range on her bladed whip isn't ideal, but to the left there are enough support pillars to offer her some sort of cover. Her heart still rages in her chest. If again her trust is misplaced, she'll be dead before any of the paladins can come to her aid. And again, she doesn't have any choice *but* to trust, and to move forward into action. The time to be passive died the moment the ten-thousand year blood feud started. Allura turns her back on Lotor and makes a mad dash for her new position.

Their enemies don't see her slide back into the shadows, but they do take notice when she catches one by a leg and pulls them to the ground. Their attention is quickly refocused on her, shouts and running feet and weapons fire-- it seems like an eternity between her nearly being overrun and the appearance of a glowing violet blade crashing into their ranks. She's preoccupied by her own fight, but she doesn't miss the sheer ferocity of the violence that cuts down drones and foot soldiers alike. It's hard, fast, and utterly merciless. One of the enemies starts to angrily shout something along the lines of traitorous intent, but Lotor just snarls as he nearly decapitates them. Dark Galra blood shines in the half light, glimmering and slick. Different from the boisterous pink that runs screaming through her veins. Allura is so distracted by the display of brutality that she's nearly blindsided by a drone, but at the last moment catches it by the arm and throws it into the poor soul Lotor is bearing down on, knocking them clean across the temple.

He looks back at her, stained with gore and grin dangerously wide. "Good aim, princess."

She asked for this. She made the decision. Whatever comes of all of this, it was her own doing.

      "Thank you," Allura says at length, "Now, may we _please_  get out of here?"

 

* * *

 

The paladins are kind enough to not rub in the whole trap situation when they safely return. It's an untold relief to know that they won't hold another another failure against her. Even Shiro is softer than before, and she briefly wonders if she's been misinterpreting things this whole time. It's been a rough few weeks, and things have been stressful. Maybe she should track him down just so they can talk things through.

      "Princess." The voice catches her off guard. Everyone else has long since gone to sleep, but Lotor approaches her now in the common area. He's pristine; not a drop of blood or gore remains on his armor. He makes existing look so effortless, though that could be because he's had dozens of lifetimes to get it right. She feels so unkempt and frazzled herself.

      "Allura," he says now that he has her attention, "I wanted-- I wanted to thank you."

      "Whatever for?"

Lotor started this conversation, but now he looks at a loss for the right words. Which is a bizarre experience considering how eloquent he usually is. Allura is confused and far too tired to try to parse out the heart of the matter.

      "It is... difficult, sometimes, to know what I am and what I cannot help being," his voice drops to a hair's breadth above a whisper, "So, I would like to thank you, for giving worth to that part of me."

Allura's mixed emotions threaten to choke her. She can't believe he would think something like that, but also she knows it shouldn't come as a surprise. He _saved_  her, as he's done in the past, and she has no doubt that trend will continue. He's apart of this strange, cobbled together family now, whether he likes it or not. She marches forward and spreads her arms wide.

      "Come here."

Lotor looks at her with trepidation. "Why?"

      "I am trying to give you a hug," surely he at least understands the concept, "You know I don't bite."

It's a joke, but she has to wonder if it's why he hesitates. Tentatively, he allows the embrace, so she makes sure to hold on tight.

      "You don't have to be ashamed of it," she mumbles into his shoulder, "There's no reason you have to live so a life so divided."

Allura barely catches the murmured thanks even though he's directly by her ear. They have to change things. The universe can't keep on like this. Not when it did this to people, tearing them apart from the inside out and then leaving the aftermath to fend for themselves. They have to come together to make it _right_.

They could all stand to learn to lean on each other a little more. It won't be instenanous, as much as she would like it be. But she likes to think they're learning on how to work together. That maybe they're getting a little better every day. That even though they come from such wildly different worlds, they can still become a cohesive unit, they can still forge onward in pursuit of peace.

Allura has faith that it'll be enough to see them through.

**Author's Note:**

> it's so important to me that if they're not smooching in a verse they're at least real close, thanks for coming to my ted talk. also how else am I gonna push my acxallura agenda?? anyways, I've been working on this for months and I'm glad its done enough that I can be done writing it. :'D 
> 
> hit me up on twitter @kawaiiaggron and pillowfort @giraffles


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